


Not on the Kitchen Counter

by thewritingkoala



Series: Tom & Amy (series of one-shots) [2]
Category: Coriolanus (2011), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Actor Tom Hiddleston, Breakfast, Cats, Cooking, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Kitchen Sex, Mild Smut, Morning Sex, Smut, Table Sex, Tom Hiddleston Is A Sweetheart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-06
Updated: 2016-10-06
Packaged: 2018-08-19 21:09:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8224871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewritingkoala/pseuds/thewritingkoala
Summary: When Amy walks in on Tom preparing breakfast, things get steamy on the kitchen counter.(Inspired by a photo and a comment, see notes.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> This one-shot was inspired by a photo of the following shoot, and by a comment an awesome friend of mine made (see title).  
> http://www.shortlist.com/entertainment/films/tom-hiddleston-and-one-seriously-cool-cat 
> 
> You can read the prequel [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8998042)
> 
> P.S.: I know the cat is actually called Bentley...

 

The sight of Tom in her kitchen would never get old.  
Following the sounds of clanging-banging kitchen utensils and the tantalizing smell of coffee, Amy had made her way downstairs, rubbing her eyes.  
She leaned quietly against the doorframe and drank in the scene in front of her. It still looked surreal to have the man of her smuttiest dreams in her small apartment. She wanted to pinch her arm because that really was Tom fucking Hiddleston playing cook in her kitchen, looking good enough to eat.  
As usual when he came over for a visit, the dork had forgotten to bring any casual clothes apart from the trusted black shorts and black T-shirt he wore for his inevitable morning run. Thus, her unlikely private chef was dressed in smart dark trousers that fit him like a second skin, and an equally tight white shirt with the sleeves rolled up and the top two buttons undone.  
Her mouth watered. What was it about men being ten times hotter with their shirt sleeves rolled up? Especially this fine specimen of the male sex who proved that a messy bedhead and fancy designer clothes did look great together.  
Something soft brushed her leg, causing her to force her greedy gaze away from Tom.  
Her tomcat Sir Lancelot rubbed his head against her calf and purred insistently until she bent down to scratch his chin. As soon as she had done her duty, he sauntered off, tail held high.  
The cat treated Tom to the same demands, and of course he stopped in the middle of preparing omelets to stroke and pet the grey-brown, furry Casanova. When the mini-tiger flopped onto his back to show off his fluffy tummy, Tom knew to stroke him exactly four times before the cat would change his mind and bite.  
“Good morning, Your Highness,” he said in that slightly teasing tone she loved so much. He grinned at the cat, who had quickly become his best buddy and ally in seducing Amy.  
She allowed her mind to wander back to the day when she had helped her friend out and brought Sir Lancelot over for a series of photo shoots with some famous actors. Little had she known that her favorite actor Tom Hiddleston would be among them and not only charm the fur off her usually picky male diva of a cat but also charm the panties off her.  
Ever since, Tom made it a point to stop by her place whenever he was in town between filming. And when he had a bit of time, he insisted on pampering her with home-cooked food—when they made it out of bed long enough to eat, that is.  
Sir Lancelot jumped up onto the shiny, black kitchen counter where he settled down with his tail looped elegantly around his darkly marked body and his head tilted to watch Tom’s every move as avidly as his mommy.  
Amy indulged in a few more moments of watching the sexiest man alive clutter her neatly organized kitchen. Surrounded by eggshells, empty cartons, milk, coffee mugs, knives, meat and fresh herbs, he looked incongruous but even more tempting.  
Truth be told, the man could do anything and would come out looking like a prime catch. He could walk around shouting poetry dressed in an oversized paper bag and be infuriatingly gorgeous. Oh wait, he had done that, sort of, in Coriolanus…  
Smiling secretly to herself, Amy watched Tom slice some whole-meal bread and use the rest to make bread crumbs for a batter to presumably fry the meat.  
“You know, darling, staring isn’t exactly a polite thing to do,” Tom said without lifting his head.  
Amy gaped. How did he do it? She hadn’t made a sound, and yet he always seemed to know when she was around.  
Tom finally looked up and sent one of his high-wattage, panty-soaking smiles her way. She saw him freeze for a moment when he let his eyes roam over her body, clad only in one of his many identical white shirts, which fell barely halfway down her thighs. She had just about managed to button it up over her breasts, but was still flashing a pretty eyeful of cleavage.  
His tongue flicked out, and it sent a tingle shooting down low. God, this man and his tongue were heaven-sent…or maybe hell-sent, depending on how you viewed it.  
“Good morning,” she said in her sweetest voice, sashaying into the room with an extra sway to her hips.  
Tom had told her a few times that he needed his full concentration whenever he made up his mind to prepare a meal for her, and she loved nothing more than distracting him. Okay, she did love a few things more, for example his head between her thighs or his mouth on… Dammit, she was getting all worked up first thing in the morning!  
He narrowed his eyes at her, their luminous blue a glow in the sunlit kitchen with its dark interior.  
“Good morning, darling. Did the coffee smell interrupt your dreams of a certain Shakespearean king on a white horse?” He wiggled his eyebrows, and she couldn’t suppress a giggle. Tom was insufferably adorable sometimes.  
Amy walked past, grinning smugly at him. “No, actually. My mind was too occupied with a certain black-haired god with a silver tongue he put to really good use.”  
With a mock growl, Tom lunged for her and pressed a toe-curling kiss to her mouth. He licked a wet trail across her face and neck before nipping her earlobe rather sharply.  
Sir Lancelot meowed plaintively, and the two of them sprang apart like college students caught kissing by a stern teacher.  
Amy poured herself a mug of steaming coffee and leaned against the opposite kitchen counter, watching Tom go back to his task of beating eggs. The muscles in his arms and back strained against the tight shirt, intensifying the tingle low down.  
Suppressing a wicked grin, Amy wandered casually to the side and hopped onto the counter, taking care to cross her legs.  
Her sexy chef glanced over and paused for a moment, eyes running hungrily up her long, bare legs. She saw his jaw clench, and that in turn made her inner muscles clench. Tom with his jaw set and his sharp cheekbones standing out even more prominently was a nearly orgasm-inducing sight, dammit.  
As usual when she played her little game, Tom pretended not to be distracted by her, returning to the task at hand.  
Taking another sip of the hot brew, Amy asked casually, “Are you going to spoil me with another of those mouth-watering 3-course menus, pudding boy?”  
She caught his chuckle, warm and low, sliding like melting chocolate over her body.  
“Certainly, darling. Don’t they say the way to a woman’s heart is through her stomach?”  
She tsked. “They say that about men, silly. Didn’t they teach you at Cambridge that the way to a woman’s heart is through her…” She made a meaningful pause, stressing the last word, “cat?”  
He turned to her, one eyebrow raised. “Really, darling? Don’t think your pussy innuendos are going to distract me, tempting as they are.”  
Amy laughed softly to herself. Before he could tear his gaze away, she slowly, deliberately uncrossed her legs but kept them close together. The shirt had ridden up considerably, almost giving him an eyeful of what lay beneath.  
Again, he unconsciously licked his lips. When he turned back to preparing breakfast, his movements were a little jerky and uncoordinated.  
Smelling victory, Amy began tapping her heels softly against the cupboard, swinging her feet like a little girl on her too high chair.  
Tom kept stealing glances her way, but didn’t lose his focus. Should she tell him that she wasn’t wearing anything underneath his shirt?  
Shifting exaggeratedly, she said almost to herself, “I never knew those granite-top counters would feel so cold against my butt.”  
A clatter signaled that Tom had dropped the knife. With a muttered curse, he picked it up, and the sight of him bent low not far away from her made her even wetter.  
He set the knife down and turned to face her, his expression all stern and his eyes darker. “Is this your clever little way of letting me know you’re not wearing any panties?”  
His voice had gone a notch deeper, sending an anticipatory shiver down her spine.  
She fluttered her lashes at him, took a leisurely sip of coffee, and said “Maybe?”  
“Jesus.” Tom ran a hand through his hair, making the slightly wavy blondish strands stand up even more, and making her hands itch to tug at them.  
Amy parted her legs ever so slightly, not really allowing him a glimpse yet.  
With another strangled curse, Tom took a step towards her, but she tutted.  
“Nu-uh, Mister Shakespeare-lover. You’re in the middle of preparing your lady love a feast. Now that you’ve made my poor kitchen look as if a cyclone has just traveled through, you’re damn well going to make it worth it.”  
He threw his head back and laughed, and as usual, the sound did funny things to her. When Tom laughed, really guffawed, the sun had nothing on his maddening, infectious brightness.  
Turning back to his work once again, he finished the omelets and chopped some onions.  
“Your mommy is all set to drive me insane today, I can sense it,” he said to Sir Lancelot. “Do you think we stand a chance?”  
Her cat tilted his head the other way, the tip of his banded tail twitching. Tom having conversations with her pet would never cease to entertain her.  
When he pulled a piece of meat out of its container and started coating it in batter and bread crumbs, Sir Lancelot mewled demandingly. The human slave didn’t react, so he stretched out a leg and meowed again, his paw tapping Tom on the elbow.  
“Spoiled little knight. You’ll grow too fat for your armor,” Tom scolded him good-naturedly.  
He held out a slice of raw meat, lifting his arm higher and higher so the cat had to stretch to catch it in his teeth.  
“Thomas William Hiddleston, not on the kitchen counter,” Amy said exasperated as the cat caught his ‘prey’ and started munching lustily—and bloodily—right there.  
Cat and man alike turned slightly guilty puppy dog eyes on her, making her sigh and laugh.  
“But why ever not, darling? It’s not like the counter can’t be wiped down in a jiffy.”  
Amy set her cup down and shifted, purposely spreading her legs a little further and feeling wonderfully shameless.  
“Because the counter is a great place to do…other things.”  
His eyebrows did that infuriating thing. Crossing his arms and making the poor shirt and buttons hang on for dear life, he stared at her. She could see the effort it took him to keep his eyes on her face and not stray lower more than once.  
“Other things? Sounds intriguing. Care to enlighten me? I’m always eager to expand my knowledge.”  
God, how she loved it that she could let this naughty side of hers out with him. He looked all wide-eyed innocence and held himself in check, but the growing bulge at the front of his trousers didn’t escape her notice.  
She swallowed, much too turned on for her own good.  
“Well…it’s good for sitting on it,” she said.  
He nodded, all businesslike. “And you do it very prettily, if I may say so.” His voice had dropped even lower, husky and full of decadent promises.  
“Why thank you.” Amy spread her legs further. She leaned back and braced her hands on the counter, flashing him some shirt-straining cleavage too.  
His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down when he swallowed convulsively. Jaw clenched, he stepped over to the sink and started scrubbing his hands. Amy followed his movements, the sight of his beautiful long fingers and the knowledge of what they could do to her ramping up her arousal.  
Instead of walking over to her, he leaned against his side of the counter, body all tense, eyes blazing with a blue fire.  
“What else are the counters good for?”  
She licked her lips, searching for the right thing to say.  
“Touching.”  
Tom’s hands clenched on the edge of the counter top.  
“Show me.” His voice was a low growl of a demand, and Amy felt herself grow even wetter.  
She sat upright and started unbuttoning the shirt, button by agonizing button. Shrugging out of it, she felt shivers of desire course through her when Tom’s gaze raked her from head to toe and she heard a half-suppressed groan.  
With deliberate slowness, she brushed a hand over her neck and down between her breasts, not touching herself where she wanted to be touched most. Her hand traveled lower and lower, sinking between her thighs. At the first brush of her fingers over her folds, a soft moan escaped her.  
“I bet they’re really good for eating too,” Tom rasped out. In a flash, he crossed the distance and sank to his knees in front of her.  
His big, strong hands were on her thighs, spreading her legs wide and keeping them in place.  
Without further ado, he dove right in, his tongue slicking over her dewy folds.  
Amy’s eyes fluttered shut and she bit her lip to hold in the moans.  
His tongue parted her folds and slipped in deeper, licking everywhere but at the very top where she throbbed for him. With a keening moan, she tried to buck against him and force him closer, but he would have none of that.  
Withdrawing slightly, Tom murmured against her, “I don’t think I need that 3-course breakfast after all. I’ll just eat this instead. You taste so fucking delicious.”  
His breath brushed over her sensitized flesh, making her shudder.  
“Tom…please…” she begged breathlessly.  
“Well, since you’re asking so nicely, darling…”  
He pulled her closer to the edge of the counter. “Lie back and hold on for the ride.”  
Before she had really settled down against the cold counter top, he dove back in, adding his teeth and lips to the torture of his skillful tongue.  
Amy was a gasping, writhing mess within seconds, desperate for more.  
“So good…Tom…oh god, more, pleeeeeease…”  
Holding her bucking body down with one arm draped across her belly, Tom shifted. He chose the exact same moment to give her clit a firm lick and push a long finger inside her.  
With a muffled scream, Amy arched into his touch. The contrast between the cool granite at her back and the burning heat inside her intensified the sensations.  
His dexterous finger moved in and out at a maddeningly slow pace, driving her higher and higher in tandem with his merciless, rhythmic licks.  
When he lifted his head, chin glistening with her juices, she was so close to coming that she wanted to scream in frustration.  
“Shall we really give this counter its money’s worth, darling?” Tom asked in a low, rough voice that was pure sin.  
He added another finger and curled both of them, tapping against the spot that made her see stars.  
“Yes. Oh fuck, yes…yeeesss…”  
The next moment, Tom sucked on her clit, and Amy exploded, soaring so high she thought she would burst right out of her body.  
She was still coming down from her mind-blowing orgasm, all muscles liquefied and her eyes tightly shut, when Tom stopped licking her clean and moved. The sound of his zipper made her clench in renewed want.  
Amy propped herself up on shaky elbows, drinking in the sight of his huge, rock-hard cock rubbing over her while Tom coated himself in her slickness. She gasped when it brushed over her swollen clit.  
Tom leaned down, wrapped a big hand around her neck and pulled her up for a sizzling kiss that was all tongue and teeth. His mouth traveled down her neck, sucking hard enough to mark her and drawing a needy whimper from her.  
He pushed just the broad head of his cock inside her, making both of them groan into each other’s mouths.  
“You know what, darling, you never finished telling me what the kitchen counter is good for,” he said between pants, jaw clenched.  
Really, sometimes she wanted to kill the man. Oh, who was she kidding…  
“Hiddleston, if you don’t shut up and fuck me till kingdom come right now, you’re forever banished from the kitchen, do you hear me.”  
“Mmm, so bossy.” Tom tightened his grip on her throat ever so slightly, reminding her who was in charge.  
He bent his head to one erect nipple and tortured her with licks and sucks, sliding the tip of his cock in and out of her wetness.  
“Tom…for fuck’s sake…please, I need you.”  
His low chuckle sent vibrations through her body. He scraped his teeth over her nipple and drew back, pushing just a fraction further into her with that infuriating self-control of his.  
“Beg nicely, darling.”  
Amy had a better idea. She waited for him to slide in again, then clenched her inner muscles tightly around him while lifting her hips.  
“That nice enough for you, Hiddleston?”  
With a strangled yelp and a look of pleasure-pain on his handsome face, Tom grabbed her hips and sank into her to the hilt.  
Amy arched up on a drawn-out moan. God, it was pure heaven to be stretched and filled like this, to feel every ridge and bump of him.  
“Fuck, do that again,” Tom rasped out, his fingers digging into her hips.  
She contracted around him, slowly this time, and the sound Tom made was more animalistic than human.  
He started pounding into her at a punishing speed, going hard and deep and stealing her breath. She clamped her fingers around the edge of the counter, holding on for dear life in a white-knuckled grip. When she wrapped her legs around his waist, he slid impossibly deeper, and their moans and curses mingled.  
It didn’t take them long to reach the peak. Amy was first, hurtling over the precipice when Tom rubbed his thumb over her clit. She clenched around him and he came, shouting her name so loudly she was sure he had woken the neighbors.  
Tom collapsed on top of her, their sweaty bodies heaving for breath, the hard edge of the counter digging into her body but not really registering in her state of bliss.  
After a moment, he pulled away and lifted her to a sitting position, tightly wrapped in his embrace.  
His breath fanned over her ear when he gave it a sensual lick.  
“You know what?” he said a little breathlessly and hoarsely, “I do think the way to a woman’s heart is her cat. Remind me to feed Sir Lancelot in other inappropriate places too.”

You can read the prequel [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8998042)


End file.
